


More thinner than recall

by alexcat



Series: More thicker than forget [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: Stephen Strange's visit is extended.





	More thinner than recall

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third installment of More Thicker than Forget. It gets its title from the poem by e.e. cummings  
> See end note for poem in its entirety.

Stephen Strange was on his twenty-first day of a supposed week-long trip to England to spend some time with Steve Rogers. The two had moved from London to the sprawling Weatherly estate that the King of Wakanda had arranged as a refuge for Steve. The old house was huge and drafty, but that didn’t matter much to either of them. There was only the caretaker and his wife to take care of everything. They lived in a small cottage and worked at the house and grounds during the day. 

The nights belonged to Steve and Stephen. 

On this particular night, the moon was full and shone in the tall, bare windows. Steve and Strange were both sleeping. They would begin each night snuggled together but sleep usually found Steve rolled up in all of the covers and Strange flat on his back with his hands on his chest. 

All was quiet when Strange jerked upright in the bed and began to scream. 

Steve woke immediately and touched Stephen’s arm. Strange stopped screaming and looked at him. “I’m sorry. Nightmare. I’ve had them for a while now.” 

“Want to tell me?” 

“I may as well. I won’t be sleeping anymore tonight.”

Steve untangled himself from the blankets and covered his companion then lay on his side with his head propped on his hand, listening and looking at Strange, who still lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as if it were the past as he began to talk. 

“I was driving my Lamborghini to a dinner where I was supposed to speak. Christine declined to go with me so I went alone. Billy sent me some scans of a woman with an electronic implant who’d been struck by lightning. I looked at the scan while I was driving and hit another car and lost control… over and over and breaking glass and that awful flip and then I woke up with bandages on my hands.”

Steve didn’t speak, sensing that Strange wasn’t done. He had known that Strange had a car crash that ended his surgical career, but not any details.

“The glass and the impact damaged my hands beyond repair. When I woke, they were - they had pins sticking out of them everywhere. Christine said that I was in surgery for eleven hours. My life was over. I was angry and bitter and mean to everyone, especially Christine.”

He held his scarred hands up and looked at them. They still trembled from the nerve damage and were covered in scars from the accident and from the surgery. Steve had seen the tremor though it was slight most of the time. 

“I was a mess for a long time. My PT told me about a guy named Pangborn who had walked after becoming a paraplegic. I tracked him down and he sent me to the Kamar-Taj in Khatmandu, where I met The Ancient One. She taught me magic and more, but not before locking me out and making me sit on the doorstep for a while. 

“When I created the time loop to trap Dormammu, he killed me over and over so many times that I lost count, but I remember the agony and pain of each and every one of those deaths.

“The nightmares are always the car crash… rolling and spinning endlessly. Or I die over and over at the hands of Dormammu.”

He remembered that Steve was there and looked over at him. “Being in combat and fighting in wars, I’m sure you’re not impressed with my little tales of woe.” 

“Don’t be silly, Strange. Suffering and pain are suffering and pain. I am so sorry that you went through all the things you have. I’m so glad that you are who you are, though.” 

He took one of Strange’s scarred hands and brought it to his face. He could see the tiny and not so tiny scars in the moonlight. He kissed each one, slowly and reverently. He could feel the tiny tremor as he pressed the palm to his lips. 

“I thought my life was over when I lost the ability to operate. But there was so much more out there. I am not sure that I am a better man, but I do have a purpose.”

Steve moved closer to him and kissed his cheek. “I like you just the way you are.”

“And you? I know the one that’s in the press, but who are you, Steve Rogers?”

“I am boy from Brooklyn. A tiny little guy who wanted so badly to do something in WWII that I tried to join the army over and over and finally got in a secret Super Soldier program. They gave me Howard Stark’s serum and it made me into this, this aberration that I am now.” 

He paused to gather his thoughts.

“My best friend growing up was Bucky Barnes. Bucky was everything I was not and he got all the girls. He joined up when I got in and after I finally got away from being side show Captain America, we served together but he was lost fighting HYDRA. I thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. HYDRA took him and turned into a killing machine, gave him the same serum I had.”

He stopped again and was quiet for a few seconds before continuing. 

“I told you about Peggy… God, I still miss Peggy.” 

He moved close enough to put his head on Strange’s shoulder. Strange pulled him even closer. 

“I was so lost when they woke me up after so many years in the ice. All the people I had known were gone or old. I saw Peggy in a nursing home. She was in and out and thought we were still young. It broke my heart. But I was needed to fight and fight I did. Without this – mission, I guess I’d be completely lost.”

“We are quite a pair,” Strange said. 

“Our abilities make us unique but the rest, well, we’re really just like everyone else. Life is hard. In the end, we all die. Your fine ass makes you pretty unique as well,” Steve said, feigning seriousness. 

“You know, I do have to return to New York soon.”

“I’ve been trying to ignore that fact.” 

“Shall we ignore it tonight as well?” Strange pulled Steve on top of him. 

“Oh yes…” Steve kissed him thoroughly. 

Strange rolled him over. “Sometimes I remember after I do things like this that you could toss me across the room.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that to someone I cared about… at least, not in bed.” 

“Good to know. Let’s stop talking and put our mouths to better use.” 

“Oooh,” was Steve’s answer as Strange began to kiss his neck. Kissing him all over was a thing with Strange and a thing that Steve thoroughly enjoyed, even when Strange insisted on kissing behind his knees. 

After the kissing ritual made his skin burn all over, Steve returned the favor, finding out that Strange was ticklish as well, just under his arms instead of his knees. 

“My God, you squealed!” Steve was laughing hard. The idea of his staid lover squealing was just too precious. Their laughter stopped when they began kissing again, but Strange knew he’d not heard the last of it. 

They were lying face to face, bodies pressed close. Strange reached down between, taking both of them in hand together. Steve’s hand slipped down over his, intertwining with it as they both thrust eagerly into both hands. 

“How the hell am I going to leave you?” Strange asked breathlessly as he felt himself tumbling into bliss, followed by his lover only moments later. 

When they were in the kitchen a bit later, Steve asked him, “Now that you mentioned it again, when are you planning on leaving?”

“I try not to think about it. I’ve gotten very accustomed to waking beside you and to freezing my ass off every night.” 

“I thought I kept you rather warm.” 

Strange turned around from the refrigerator, where he was rummaging for something to eat. “When you’re awake, you do; but when you go to sleep, you roll up in the damned blankets and refuse to give an inch.”

“I’ll give them back if you squeal like a girl.” 

“I can zap you back to that 98 pound weakling. Or to the Stone Age.” Strange arched an eyebrow at him. 

“I think you like me too much the way I am to do that.”

“Actually, you’re the closest to perfect I’ve ever seen. You’re handsome, smart, sexy, kind…”

“My God, I sound like a saint.”

“I don’t think saints give blow jobs like you do, Steve.”

Steve actually blushed. “Thank you?” 

“Yes, it was a compliment. Now help me find something to eat, before all this talk about blow jobs makes me forget I’m hungry.”

Strange stayed another three weeks. He and Steve never did eat anything at all that night and they didn’t talk about Stephen leaving again for several weeks.

**Author's Note:**

>  **love is more thicker than forget]**  
>  By E. E. Cummings 
> 
> love is more thicker than forget  
> more thinner than recall  
> more seldom than a wave is wet  
> more frequent than to fail
> 
> it is most mad and moonly  
> and less it shall unbe  
> than all the sea which only  
> is deeper than the sea
> 
> love is less always than to win  
> less never than alive  
> less bigger than the least begin  
> less littler than forgive
> 
> it is most sane and sunly  
> and more it cannot die  
> than all the sky which only  
> is higher than the sky


End file.
